Hermione & the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
by Stellata
Summary: Auror Granger's first solo mission takes a bad turn. Afterwards, all she wants is food, a shower, and sleep, but she can't seem to get any of those things. Maybe there's something even better that can distract her from her troubles? Harry/Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this, sadly.

* * *

Hermione Granger was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

She had at first been delighted to have been given a mission to complete on her own. After all, she was only a first-year Auror, fresh out of training. Most Aurors didn't get solo assignments until they had finished two years working with a partner.

Harry Potter, her best friend and her Auror partner, had caught the dragon pox, and was out of commission for several days. He was rather contagious, and Hermione hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye before he was thrown in quarantine. It seemed Healers really wouldn't make exceptions for the Boy-Who-Conquered, or for his war hero friends.

Without her partner, Hermione had been given the solo mission. Hermione had promised Shacklebolt - naively, she thought now - that she wouldn't let him down.

It should have been easy enough. Bring in a man suspected of peddling dark artifacts on Hecate Lane, right by its intersection with Knockturn Alley.

The man in question turned out to be about four feet tall and hard of hearing. Hermione had assumed he wasn't going to make trouble from his kindly smile... She had rarely been this wrong before.

She had turned to inspect the contents of his bag, and suddenly got a face full of orange powder. As Hermione coughed and reached for her wand, the small man grabbed for her wand as well. A fierce struggle ensued. The tiny man was much stronger than he appeared, Hermione had thought angrily.

Hermione's eyes had itched, and she couldn't stand it any longer. She reached out and grabbed the little man's collar. Then lo and behold, his cloak slipped off, and he instantly grew in size. Hermione had a moment to realize he had been wearing one of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' Disguise cloaks. She really hated Fred and George in that moment.

But she hadn't had much time to dwell on how best to revenge herself on the twins, for the man - who was now over six and a half feet tall - grabbed his bag and apparated out. Hermione had thankfully set up a trace spell before even speaking to the 'little' peddler, so she knew where he had apparated to.

The trace gave her a clear image, and Hermione apparated there. She appeared in the middle of a swamp, knee-deep in muddy, watery... ickiness.

* * *

Six hours later, Hermione had returned to Auror Headquarters entirely exhausted, covered with mud and leaves, bearing numerous scratches and bruises, and very close to falling down. Shacklebolt had requested her in his office at once, so Hermione walked slowly to the room, hoping that the brown marks her boots left on the floor were only made by mud.

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked down at Hermione and blinked. Auror Dawson, who stood by his side, looked rather appalled.

"I know that I summoned you immediately, but I would have allowed you to clean up first." Kingsley pointed out.

"My wand broke," Hermione said dully.

Kingsley looked rather sympathetic, as did his secretary, Wilhemina Parsley, who had been distracted from her writing by Hermione's entrance. Dawson merely wrinkled his nose. Hermione really hated Dawson.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Auror Granger. How was your assignment?"

"It was terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad. Overall, it sucked arse." Hermione immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. Oh dear, she thought, feeling mortified, that sounded like something Ron would have said! What was wrong with her that she couldn't think before she spoke?

Wilhemina giggled, and Dawson looked scandalized, but Kingsley merely raised an eyebrow.

"I was asking for details."

"Oh. It was muddy too," Hermione added. She looked down at her mud-covered boots and squelched them against the floor, watching with fascination as water flowed out of them.

"Auror Granger!" Dawson said sharply.

Kingsley raised a hand, and Dawson's mouth closed suddenly. Hermione felt very grateful, and looked to meet the Head of the M.L.E.'s eyes. Shacklebolt knew what it felt like when a mission went bad. Dawson, who had rose through the ranks of bureaucracy, had never had to experience anything like what Hermione did daily.

"Was the mission successful, Auror?"

"I caught the guy," Hermione said quietly. "He's in holding now. He got the jump on me while I was searching his wares, and I had to chase him through a swamp. And my wand broke. He was wearing a Weasley's Disguise Cloak, so he didn't arouse suspicion at first. I'm supposed none of the recon people noticed that before."

She was being rude, and short, to her superior, and she had just insulted another Auror, whoever that might be. Yet strangely, Hermione didn't feel like caring at the moment.

"That's enough, then. Unless there's anything important, you can write up the report tomorrow."

"No, he seemed to have been working alone," Hermione sighed.

"Thank you, Auror Granger," Kingsley's eyes twinkled a little, and Hermione frowned, thinking that as wizards got older, they reminded her more and more of Dumbledore each day. "You may go."

Hermione left without saying goodbye. She trudged through the office, unheeding to the sympathetic looks of the other Aurors, instead focused on getting home as soon as possible. She winced as she stretched a strained thigh muscle, then bumped her sore knee on a desk leg.

Finally she was at the lift, trying to stand up straight to keep her back from hurting too much.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Hermione would know that nasty voice anywhere.

Theodore Nott.

"What's the matter, Granger?" Nott asked as Hermione stepped into the lift and silently pressed her button. "Finally taken your place to heart? Got some mud on your clothes to match the mud in your blood?"

Hermione was silent, and just wished the lift would go faster. Nott was upset at being ignored, and when the lift opened at Hermione's floor, Nott blocked the way out.

"Why they let filth like you disgrace the Ministry I'll never understand," Nott sneered at her.

Hermione cocked her head slightly to the side and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Look, Nott. I haven't eaten, slept, or taken a shower since dawn. I just don't have the energy to do anything but collapse in bed, and right now you're standing in the way of me getting those things."

She reached out and firmly pushed Nott to the side before leaving the lift. To her surprise, Nott had no comeback. Feeling a bit more cheerful, Hermione continued a few more feet before apparating.

Then she was in her living room. Thank Merlin, Hermione thought, and yawned as she walked towards the kitchen.

Something yowled just as she tripped over it.

"Crooks," Hermione groaned, looking at the large orange menace that had been in her way. "Please, I don't need anyone else bringing me down today. Don't join in. You're supposed to be on my side no matter what."

Crookshanks raised his tail haughtily and left the room, as if to say, _humans, always overreacting._

Hermione slowly got up, wincing as every muscle in her body tried to protest. Giving up, she crawled towards the kitchen.

"Food, shower, sleep," Hermione moaned to herself. "Food, shower, sleep." She began to giggle at herself, distracting herself from the worst of the pain as she got to the kitchen and had to stand up again.

The witch wanted to just make something quickly - something that didn't need magic to prepare it. She would have to use the gas stovetop. Funny, Hermione thought, she hadn't use it in years...

Hermione grabbed a container of Indian left-overs from the fridge and dumped it into a pan, then put it on the stove. Then she turned the knob.

"Why isn't it turning on?" Hermione growled, staring at the flicker of the spark that should be lighting the gas. She carelessly used a little wandless magic to augment the flame - and then the entire stove was on fire.

"Ahh! Why!" Hermione screeched. The muggle sprinkler-system proved to work perfectly when in the next moment, Hermione, the pot, and the entire kitchen was doused with a liquid substance that put out the fire very quickly.

Hermione wanted to cry. Her food was wrecked, and she was even dirtier than before.

"I want my wand," she groaned, and turned to go to the bathroom. If she couldn't have food, she could at least have a shower.

She stripped in front of the mirror, pointedly ignoring her reflection, afraid of looking like a giant blueberry, given that most of her was covered in black and blue.

She flipped on the hot water faucet and gave it thirty seconds to warm up. Yes, that should do it...

"Aggggggh!" Hermione screeched. The water was cold. No, it was freezing. She checked the faucet and growled. She had set it right, onto the hot switch, but it wasn't working...

Giving up, Hermione quickly showered, trying not to shiver, but failing miserably.

At least I'm clean," she thought to herself as her teeth chattered and she grabbed for a towel. Oh, it was a small one, that she only ever used to dry her hair or her hands... All of the other ones were on the floor, already wet or dirty or both.

Hermione just shook her head and went back to the kitchen to grab a banana. The only one left was brown and mushy, and she just couldn't stand to eat it... But right next to the fruit bowl was a letter.

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry I couldn't see you before going into quarantine. But I'm excited for you - your very first 'alone' assignment... I'm sure you'll do it easily and quickly, like you do everything else._

_By the way, our heat's been turned off. It should be fine, we can just take baths instead of showers, and heat the water with magic. Also, we're out of detergent. We'll need some to do laundry, especially because we seem to be out of towels. Do you think you could take care of it?_

_See you as soon as I get out!_

_Yours,_

_Harry_

Hermione stared at the letter for a moment before simpering, "Yes, Harry. As you say, your majesty. I shall take care of everything - I am after all your humble servant, oh great Boy-who-Conquered."

She stepped to the wall and hit her head on it. It made a rather satisfying thud. So she did it again. And again. And again.

"Hermione?" She could hear a voice calling. "I'm out of quarantine!"

Harry walked into the kitchen to see Hermione thudding her head on the wall.

"Hermione?" He tried again. "Are you all right?"

She glanced up at him, before continuing with what she was doing.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

"Hermione? I'm not contagious anymore, so I came home as soon as I could. Please just tell me what the matter is." Harry sounded pleading now, like a friend and not a demanding roommate who left obnoxious letters addressed to her lying around...

Thud.

Thud.

Hermione suddenly raised her head.

"You're not contagious anymore?"

Harry blinked, a bit confused, but glad that Hermione had stopped hitting her head.

"That's what the Healers told me."

"They're sure?" Hermione asked again.

"They wouldn't have let me out of the ward if I was."

"Good." Hermione stood up and began to walk towards Harry, still wearing only a towel. "Then I'm going to do this right away. Before a piano lands on my head."

Harry looked even more confused, and backed away as Hermione came towards him.

"Hermione," Harry's voice sounded a little high. "Your towel is starting to fall."

"Good," Hermione grinned. "It'll just get in the way."

She reached out, grabbed Harry's hair, and pulled him close, knocking their lips together and kissing him thoroughly.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this, sadly.

* * *

Harry stood stock still for a moment, but Hermione wasn't letting him go. She pushed him against the wall, her body firmly against his, and was glad to feel a certain male reaction soon enough.

"Hermione," Harry pulled his mouth away with great effort. "WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU?"

"I'm so tired right now it should count as being drunk and not on control of my actions," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck. "And I need some cheering up after a very shitty day."

Then she jumped in again, kissing Harry with a passion neither of them had ever felt before.

Harry moaned, but pulled away again.

"What happened to you today?"

"It doesn't matter," Hermione grinned. "I can hardly feel the bruises now." She lowered her head and began to nip at Harry's neck, an action that was sure to give the wizard a few bruises of his own.

"Hermione, you - you - you're not in control of your faculties."

The witch heard the question in that sentence.

"Yes I am," she answered confidently, meeting his eyes. She lunged forward again to grab his lips with her own, at the same time lifting a leg to wrap around his hip.

Harry's hands flew up and pushed her away, somewhat reluctantly.

"Hermione, as, um, lovely as this is, we really should talk about it first."

"Talk, talk, talk," Hermione scowled at Harry. "That's all you ever do. That's all I ever do - hell, that's all we ever do! I'm sick and tired of talking." She grabbed his jacket and pulled it open, ripping off several buttons at the same time.

Then she reached for Harry's chest and got to work making sure he wouldn't be able to talk. As they kissed, Harry seemed to give in, moaning and reaching to hold Hermione more firmly against him, even moving a hand to explore her bare legs and around to her lower back.

They tangled around each other, loving the sensations of finally exploring each other fully. It was something they had both dreamed of, but never acted on, for far too long.

Hermione drew back to take a quick breath, and Harry took advantage of the moment to push her away again.

"Stop, Hermione," he said, his voice a little raspy. "If something happens right now... Well, you're acting like you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're not in control of your normal... inhibitions," Harry sighed. He looked at her wistfully, stroking her cheek with one hand. "You don't deserve that, not on our first time together."

Hermione growled in exasperation and stamped her foot on the ground. Harry blinked; her action was quite full-bodied, as she was standing before him completely naked now.

"I love you, you love me. We want to shag. What's the problem?"

"You love me?" Harry whispered.

Hermione tossed her hair and rolled her eyes again.

"You're being rather slow tonight, Harry. Catch up."

Harry slowly smiled, lifting a hand to stroke down her jawline.

"You love me." He stated, his voice full of awe.

"Mmmm," Hermione sighed, closing her eyes at the pleasant caress.

"Then we really need to talk," Harry murmured.

Hermione didn't answer. She just relaxed into his arms and Harry reached to catch her as she let out a small snore.

"Hermione?" Harry chuckled softly. She was definitely asleep.

He swung her gently into her arms and carried her to the nearest bed, which was in his bedroom. Since Hermione was already naked, he didn't need to undress her, and slid her easily under the blankets. He was sorry to have the blankets covering up her body, but he didn't want her to get cold.

After a moment's thought, Harry slid off his shoes, dropped his jacket onto the floor, and slipped under the covers beside Hermione. She turned towards him, burying her face in his shirt, and he gladly wrapped his arms around her.

Harry had often imagined this moment, the first time he had a naked Hermione in his bed, for years - and it had never happened like this. It proved that life was crazier than his wildest dreams.

"Apples," Hermione moaned into Harry's shirt.

Harry grinned amusedly before closing his eyes and settling to sleep.

* * *

Hermione's eyes hurt as she opened them.

"Owww," she groaned. She never knew she could hurt her eyelid muscles...

She looked around carefully, not moving a muscle after discovering how much one little finger hurt. How did she get in bed? Whose bed was this? Then she started to remember the events of the night before.

"Oh Merlin," Hermione gasped. "Did I really talk to Kingsley that way? Did I really strike Nott speechless? Oh no... Did I really say that to Harry? Did I really DO that to Harry?"

She was still looking around the room, slowly realizing it was Harry's, when Harry entered wearing only a pair of pants and an open, unbuttoned dark green shirt that looked very... delicious on him.

Hermione forget instantly about Harry's possible deliciousness when she smelled what Harry was carrying to the bed.

"Good afternoon, Hermione."

"Hey, Harry," Hermione sighed, offering him a small, shy smile. "Would you mind telling me... how exactly I got here? And what, exactly, I did last night?"

Harry smiled in amusement, and Hermione blushed.

"That may be a talk we should have _after_ you've eaten your breakfast."

"It's that bad?" Hermione said weakly.

"No, not that bad," Harry told her as he put the breakfast tray down beside her. Then he moved to the end of the bed and sat down by her feet.

Accepting Harry's rules, Hermione did as he said and ate. Her stomach was very grateful as she shoveled down eggs, hash browns, sausage, and pancakes. She was thankful for the millionth time that Harry knew how to cook (unlike Hermione, who failed at making spaghetti).

She glanced over at Harry, and every time she did, she realized he was just looking at her. Oh, what HAD she done?

"What did I do?" Hermione finally asked again.

Harry looked at her, and straight faced, replied, "You lost your towel."

Hermione knew she was blushing again, redder than ever before.

"I did?" she croaked.

"Yes, you did. On purpose, in fact."

Hermione hid her face in the pillow.

"I don't want to know any more," she said, her voice muffled.

"I think you should," Harry said, as he came to sit beside her, moving the breakfast tray to the bedside table. "It might not be as bad as you think."

"You don't know what I'm thinking," Hermione said, peeking out at him.

Harry reached out and took the pillow gently off of Hermione's face.

"I have a good idea." He gazed at her intensely for a minute. "You said some things that I'd like to hear you say again now that you're well-rested and thinking properly."

"You're going to have to tell me more, Harry," Hermione said, looking up at him, still rather flushed. "I don't know what was real and what was just a dream."

Harry leaned forward with a smile and pulled the side of his shirt aside to reveal... a rather large hickey.

Hermione moaned in dismay.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking straight, I mean, I wouldn't have..."

"What you did doesn't matter, what you said does." Harry said firmly.

"And what did I say?"

"Well, in your effort to get... shagged," Harry said, calmly and brutally, "You said that you loved me."

Hermione shot straight up in bed and promptly winced as her muscles protested the action.

"I said WHAT?"

"I only need to know if you meant it."

"If I meant it?" Hermione asked weakly, wondering how on earth she could possibly get out of this now.

Harry leaned forward, until their faces were inches apart.

"Do you love me, Hermione?" He had never sounded so serious before.

"I, uh," Hermione began. "I, Harry, I, er..."

"There's no wrong answer," Harry told her softly. "I just need to know."

Hermione closed her eyes and shivered slightly. If there would be no bad consequences - Harry kept his promises - then she should just do it. Get it over with.

"Yes." Her eyes remained clenched closed.

She could feel Harry's fingers running down her face, a now-familiar and ever-welcome action.

"In love with me?"

Hermione could feel his warm breath on her face, and timidly opened her eyes.

"Yes, Harry. I'm in love with you."

Harry took a deep breath and beamed.

"You know, Hermione, you're much smarter when you're exhausted. Last night you had already realized that I was in love with you."

Hermione's face slowly turned from confused to understanding.

"I _am_ in love with you," Harry repeated gently, and pressed his lips to Hermione's.

Hermione felt a warm tingle spread throughout her body, and didn't hesitate in grabbing hold of Harry and pulling him on top of her on the bed.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Harry and Hermione found themselves stuck together, now horizontally, making out like it was the end of the world.

Suddenly Hermione groaned in pain, and Harry stopped to look at her.

"I feel like one giant bruise," Hermione sighed. "Otherwise I'd love to continue this..."

"It's all right," Harry smiled at her, rolling off her and laying a gentle hand on hers. "We can talk anyways."

"Oh," Hermione sighed.

"Did I make you lose all ability to speak?" Harry smirked at her.

"You," Hermione declared. "Are the most frustrating person alive."

"Excuse me, pot? I believe _you_ are the one who is lying in my bed, naked."

Hermione carefully turned on her side before running a hand down Harry's exposed chest, through the soft hair down to the strong muscle of his abdomen.

"You're not much better."

"I suppose not, but we really do have a lot to talk about."

"I can think of better things for my mouth to be doing," Hermione replied suggestively. She moved a hand to Harry's nipple, and he let out a gasp.

"Careful, Hermione, my darling bruise. I might think you're drunk on exhaustion again."

"It's dreadfully hard to be bashful," Hermione smiled. "When we both are wearing so little clothing, and bear each other's marks..." She ran a finger along Harry's kiss-swollen lips before moving it down to trace the hickey she had given him the night before.

Harry leaned forward and kissed her again, making her sigh and leaving them both breathless. He pulled back again, took a deep breath, and said: "We're having dinner at the Burrow tonight. Are you all right with telling everyone about us?"

"Of course," Hermione smiled.

"You think they'll be surprised?" Harry mused.

"Well, Ginny and Luna have known how I felt about you for years..."

"And Ron and Neville figured out my feelings for you in 6th year..."

"And since Luna and Ron are living together..."

"And Ginny and Neville are engaged..."

"And since none of them can keep secrets from each other..."

"They're not going to be surprised."

"Not in the least," Hermione sighed.

"Well, maybe they'll be surprised on how it came about..."

Hermione blushed.

"You are _NOT_ telling them that, Harry Potter."

"Oh, yes? And how are you going to make me?"

"By withholding this," Hermione said smugly, before kissing him slowly, deeply, and languidly.

"Okay," Harry gasped. "I won't tell."

After all, he didn't think he could live without it. He had Hermione Granger, and he wasn't letting her go anytime soon. Funnily enough, Hermione was thinking the exact same thing about him.


End file.
